


good for you

by bageldiscourse



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: 2019 Stanley Cup Playoffs, Established Relationship, M/M, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-20 15:37:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18528019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bageldiscourse/pseuds/bageldiscourse
Summary: “My night means anything I want, yeah?” J.T. says after a minute, his mouth upturned into the slightest hint of a smirk.Alexander looks up into his lust-blown eyes and thinks,anything.





	good for you

**Author's Note:**

> the working title for this was "the t in j.t. is for top," in case u were wondering. also SO glad i can't write anything >like 1k anymore i love that for me. it's fine.
> 
> enjoy, and remember, tyson jost IS a switch, thanks

The locker room is buzzing after tying the series against Calgary, and J.T. especially so after his big goal in the third. He’s just finished up media obligations, hair still wet from his shower, when Tyson wraps his arms around J.T.’s waist from behind. “Second star of the game—not bad, eh?”

“First star of my _heart_ ,” Alexander says, loudly and more dramatically than is completely necessary. He’s sitting in his stall and looking up at J.T., and there’s something about J.T.’s returning look that makes Alex’s breath falter a little.

“Get a room, you three!” and plenty of wolf-whistles float their way no more than five seconds later, and J.T. pulls Alexander up and into an ostentatious kiss as he flips them off.

“How do you want to celebrate?” Alexander asks, dropping his voice lower once he pulls away. “It’s your night, babe. Whatever you want.”

J.T. shrugs and says, “I have a few ideas. You’ll see,” leaving it at that.

The drive home is mostly silent, and as soon as the three of them walk into the house and shed their shoes and coats, J.T. pushes Alexander up against the door and catches his mouth in a kiss, slow and bruising with a hand in Alexander’s hair as he licks into his mouth. J.T. bites at Alexander’s bottom lip and Alexander moans, letting his head fall back.

“My night means anything I want, yeah?” J.T. says after a minute, his mouth upturned into the slightest hint of a smirk.

Alexander looks up into his lust-blown eyes and thinks, _anything._

“Yeah, anything,” he says, as J.T. presses kisses to the column of his neck.

“Wanna fuck you,” J.T. hums. Alexander feels dizzy with how much he wants that, too.

“Yeah, yeah. C’mon, fuck me, J.T.”

“Bed,” J.T. says decisively, working at the buttons on Alexander’s shirt as he walks him backwards in the direction of their room.

“How about you blow him,” J.T. says, “and then I’ll fuck you, okay?” When Alexander nods eagerly, J.T. gives him a quick kiss and then sits on the bed where he can watch.

Tyson coaxes Alexander to his knees, leaning against the wall, and from there Alexander gets Tyson’s belt and jeans off without much preamble. He mouths at the cotton of Tyson’s boxers, wetting the fabric and letting himself get a little messy with it until Tyson pulls his boxers down himself, guiding Alexander to his dick with a gentle but firm grip in his hair. He’s been growing it out, and he _likes_ feeling the possessive tug of Tyson’s hands in it.

He knows Tyson likes fucking his mouth, so he looks up at Tyson and lets his mouth go slack, trying to be good for him. Tyson starts with slow, shallow thrusts of his hips and gradually works up a faster pace, until Alexander is moaning around him, spit leaking from his mouth as he takes Tyson’s dick incrementally further. Alexander likes this part a lot, letting Tyson boss him around and losing himself in the way it feels to be controlled by him, knowing what’s coming next.

For a while he spaces out, doesn’t focus too much on one thing or another as Tyson does most of the work, but then Tyson says, “Gonna come,” in between one breath and the next, his hips starting to stutter. Ostensibly he expects Alexander to pull off, but Alexander doesn’t move until Tyson comes in spurts down his throat, swallowing as much as he can.

Tyson walks over to the bed with Alexander following close behind, pulls him into his lap and kisses him. “Look at you,” Tyson says, wiping come off Alexander’s chin with his thumb and pushing it into Alexander’s mouth. “So good for me.” Alexander’s eyes flutter closed for a few seconds at the praise, sucking the digit clean and releasing it with a wet pop of his mouth.

Tyson pushes Alexander gently down onto the bed, and then J.T. replaces him in the space between Alexander’s legs. He pulls Alexander’s boxers down and off, and then Alexander can vaguely register Tyson tossing J.T. the bottle of lube. He runs a hand over Alexander’s thigh and says, “Turn around for me, baby. Hands and knees.”

Alexander does as he’s told, and J.T. trails a finger slowly down his spine, kissing the curve where spine meets ass. He’s almost surprised, when J.T. pushes the first slick finger in him, taking his time with it; J.T. usually likes to get this part over with quickly, often electing to have Alexander do it himself, so he can get to what he _really_ wants, which is to fuck him. Tonight, though, J.T. draws it out, fucking him slowly with one finger, pulling drawn-out moans out of Alexander, his breaths coming sharp and irregular. J.T. adds a second finger, and then finally, _finally_ starts moving with purpose, stroking at his prostate with nearly every push of his fingers.

“One more?” J.T. asks after no time at all, considering. As if Alexander’s answer would be anything but yes.

“Please,” Alexander says, voice wrecked and barely above a whisper.

“Yeah, I’ve got you,” J.T. says, petting Alexander’s hair gently with his free hand as he slowly adds in a third finger. Alexander rocks back on his fingers, letting a string of curses spill from his lips as he tries to take them deeper. J.T. doesn’t even have to move much at all, Alexander happy to work himself on J.T.’s fingers on his own.

“You look so pretty like this, you have no idea,” J.T. says, and Alexander is willing to bet his face and shoulders are flushed red right now. J.T. removes his fingers slowly and admires the image in front of him, the quiet noise Alexander makes at the loss of contact before he says, “I think you’re ready for me, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Alexander says, sounding just this side of desperate. J.T. can’t get enough of it. “Y’should fuck me now,” and then, for good measure, he tacks a “please” onto the end.

“Turn over, sweetheart. Wanna see you.” As Alexander does what he’s told, J.T. gets off the bed and quickly undresses all the way, not trying to make a show of it this time.

When J.T. starts to push into him, a stark contrast to the way he’d fucked him with his fingers, he goes slow. He teases Alexander with just the head at first, then keeps going a little at a time until Alexander can’t stand it. “Need more— _ah_ —J.T., get on with it already.”

J.T. hesitates, says, “Sure you’re ready?”

“You know I am,” Alexander says, low and a little pleading.

Doing as he’s told, J.T. sets a quick, almost bruising pace; Alexander tries to keep quiet, taking into consideration the thin hotel walls, but it’s hard to keep his composure like this. As a string of curses and _yes_ and _harder_ spill from Alexander’s mouth, Tyson leans over to litter his neck with kisses that sting just a bit.

Tyson hums, hovers his teeth over an especially sensitive spot above Alexander’s collarbone, and bites down—not too hard, but enough to leave a mark—before sucking a hickey into the same spot. J.T. hits his prostate once, twice more, and then Alexander is coming, shuddering through it as he digs blunt fingertips into the curve of J.T.’s back.

Alexander runs a hand through his hair as he catches his breath, and with exhaustion getting the best of them, the three of them fall asleep within minutes.

 

The next morning Alexander is a little sore, and covered in newly blooming hickeys, sizeable and conspicuous.

(Looking in the mirror after his shower, he thumbs over them and revels in the way his breath hitches at even a gentle touch.)

He doesn’t _mind_ that, of course—it’s not like the team doesn’t know about the three of them, after all—but he does know he’ll have to get creative with hiding it from the press, because it’s not quite turtleneck weather in Calgary anymore.

Eventually he settles on a buttoned plaid flannel, keeps his head down as he walks into the rink behind J.T. and Tyson, and it serves its purpose just fine.

Practice is mostly uneventful, and then once they’re undressing in the locker room afterward, Alexander looks up and meets EJ’s gaze by chance.

“You get attacked last night by a vampire there, Kerf?” EJ chirps; Alexander is unbuttoning his shirt, and immediately his eyes land on Tyson, who’s smirking right back at him. His cheeks color, and he stutters a second before muttering, “Shut up.”

“Just ‘cause he gets laid and you don’t—”

“I get laid _plenty_ , thanks so much—”

“Guys, please—” Gabe cuts in. “Let’s keep our personal lives _much_ more personal, shall we?”

The team has a flight out to Calgary to catch, so the conversation more or less ends there; as they’re slowly filing out, J.T. says, “You know, I kinda like seeing you covered in hickeys and embarrassed about it.”

Tyson shrugs. “It is kinda hot.”

“Now is _so_ not the time for this, oh my God,” Alexander mumbles, because their teammates are a mere hundred feet or so away, and Alexander is gonna pop a boner if they keep going with this.

“We should mark you up more often, huh? Show everyone who you belong to,” Tyson says, and it’s overwhelming, the effect his words have on Alexander.

“I—” Alexander says, his breath hitching in the back of his throat. “Yeah, you should.”

**Author's Note:**

> if this seems like i gave up on neatly ending this in a place that makes sense that is: because i did
> 
>  
> 
> anyway sko avs and u can find me on twitter @bboesers xoxo


End file.
